This Is For (K is for Knife)
by FortySevens
Summary: This is For: A series of mostly unconnected one-shots based on self-generated 1word prompts. K is for Knife: Blinking at the screen, she took a deep breath, "Bucky," she waited until he faced her. "Are you at all concerned by the fact that you just handed me your knife?"


**K is for Knife (Darcy/Bucky)**

Post Note: someone had this absolutely terrible (in its brilliance) headcanon on Tumblr that Bucky was trained to giving his handlers a weapon when he was alone with them, and I decided to take that and run.

The only reason why it took so long for Darcy to notice Bucky's habit was that they were never actually _alone_ together during the first six or so months after he moved in Stark Tower.

But then Jane and Tony went on a three-day science bender—that probably involved an alcohol bender as well—and Darcy had to call Pepper, who was working in Europe for the week, to get authorization to lock the dangerous duo out of the lab before the building exploded.

A day and a half later, Darcy stood barefoot in the kitchen and still in her pajamas as she shook out a bowl of cereal, low strains of a baseball game on TV echoing in from the living room.

She cradled the bowl in one arm so she could grab her phone and coffee, and she made her way toward the noise, finding Bucky sitting on the center of the couch as he watched the Dodgers take on the Angels.

"Mind if I join you?" She announced as she waited in the doorway.

Bucky looked up, and she watched recognition flicker in his eyes as he figured out who he was—much quicker than the first few weeks after he moved in—and he nodded.

"Awesome," she settled on the far end of the couch, leaning forward to drop everything in her arms onto the coffee table as she checked the TV. "Scoreless in the sixth with _that_ many runners on base? This must be the most bring game of the day."

He didn't say anything, and when she looked over, she found him holding one of his knifes by the blade across the cushions, the hilt pointed toward her, not even looking at her as he waited for her to take it.

"Uh, thanks," she turned her wide-eyed gaze down to it, the overhead lights shining off the meticulously sharpened, six-inch blade.

Her still sleepy brain ground to a halt as she stared dumbly at it.

"It's just wrong," he muttered, startling her out of her reverie, and her head snapped away from the blade resting across her fingers.

She cleared her throat, "W-what is?"

A dark sneer crossed Bucky's face as he gestured at the screen, "Who the hell let the club move all the way to _California_? Who am I supposed to root for around her, the damn Yankees?"

Blinking at the screen, she took a deep breath, "Bucky," she waited until he faced her. "Are you at all concerned by the fact that you just handed me your knife?"

He looked at her like he didn't know what she was talking about, "No."

"No?"

"No."

She took another breath, and then shook her head, because this was way, way, _way_ out of her depth, "Okay," she reached to the side and grabbed her cereal, still not sure what to do with the knife and finally dropping it on the cushion next to her. "Want some cereal?"

When the game was over an hour later—Go Dodgers, even if he was still _super_, almostl hilariously bitter that they weren't in Brooklyn anymore—Bucky stood and held a hand out, and Darcy's eyes were wide as she handed the blade back.

"See you later, Lewis."

Darcy stared at his back as he disappeared, her eyes focused on the hallway long after the elevator pinged to take him back downstairs.

"Why do you do that?" She finally forced herself to ask two months later as she sat with Bucky while JARVIS cued up the latest episode of _How It's Made_ on the television in her apartment.

Bucky blinked at her, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, and she was pretty sure he wasn't aware that he was toying her hair with his left hand, "Do what?"

She frowned, "You don't know?" She held the knife out between them. "You do this like, _all_ the time."

"Doll, _what_ are you going on about?"

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard and tried to calm down so _he_ wouldn't freak out, "You don't realize that every single time we're alone, you hand me your knife?"

His jaw ticked as he looked at the weapon, and he drew away from her, crossing his arms over his chest, "It's protocol."

_Protocol_.

She mouthed the word, and then flinched hard.

His old handlers _trained him_ to arm them when they were alone.

In case they needed to put him down.

"Fuck."

Bucky stood quickly, "I'm gonna go," he muttered, and was out the door before she could say anything.

The click of the door swinging shut echoed in her apartment, and Darcy dropped her gaze back to the knife that quickly became a familiar accessory.

"_Fuck_."

She needed to go after him, "JARVIS, where is he going?"

"The roof, Ms. Lewis."

Groaning, she stood, "Ugh, I know he's the _Winter_ Soldier and all, but it's like four degrees outside."

"Then I suggest you wear your North Face parka and maybe your boots if you decide to go after him."

With a scoff, she darted over to the hall closet and grabbed the heavy jacket, shoving it on as she pushed her feet into her boots, not bothering to tie them as she made her way to the door.

"_If_," she spat under her breath. "Like I _wouldn't_."

She was halfway into the hall when she cursed under her breath and used the leverage from her hand on the door to swing back inside, jogging unsteadily over to the couch and swiping the knife off the cushions.

Taking a second to stuff her laces into the boots before she tripped over them, she yanked her bottled blue afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it over her other arm.

"J, elevator please," she muttered once she was in the hall, diving into the open doors and tapping her foot as it rose to the roof.

When Tony was trying to convince Jane to give her mother her apartment back and move into one of his in the Tower, one of the sticking points was that there wasn't a rooftop space like they had back in New Mexico.

So Tony, being Tony, renovated the upper spire, expanding the space and building a fire bit, pretty much making it the most livable outdoor space in the Tower.

The elevator opened to the glass-walled sun room that had its own seating installed on the right side, and Darcy made her way to the doors, eyes scanning through the dimness for the wayward soldier.

It took a second before she found him leaning against the railing to her right, and she took a deep breath as she pressed her free hand to the glass.

She jumped when the knife clanged against it, and her jaw ticked as she tightened her fingers around the molded grip, "Okay Darcy," she muttered under her breath, shoving it in her pocket. "It's going to be fine."

Swallowing, she pushed the door open and winced at the burst of cold air that smacked her in the face, "Hey," she murmured, and Bucky's shoulders tensed before he looked back at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"You left kind of abruptly," she murmured, her boots crunching on the roofing. "Here."

Bucky looked between her and the blanket hanging off her arm, and then back again, and Darcy shifted from one foot to the other, "Come on Bucky," she shook her outstretched arm. "Super-soldier powers or not, it's freezing out."

With a sigh and a nod, he took the blanket, his fingers brushing against her arm, and she resisted the urge to shudder as he tugged it over his shoulders, holding it closed against his chest with one hand.

"Thanks."

She tugged her sleeves higher over her hands as she stepped up next to him, "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who handed you the _knife_," he dug through his pockets with his other hand. "Fuck, I've got to-"

"Hey," she cut him off and grabbed the knife. "It's right here. You're good."

Breathing hard through his nose, he shook his head and looked back out to the city below, "Think this pretty much proves how wrong you are, doll."

Her short laugh was swallowed by a gust of wind, and she held her jacket closer to her body, "Do you remember what I told you when Steve first brought you down to our labs?"

Bucky let out a derisive snort, "Rule number one: Darcy Lewis is always right," he recited. "Rule number two: if Darcy Lewis is wrong, see rule number one."

"Exactly," she rested her left side against the railing so she could look at him. "You're going to be _fine_."

Laughing hollowly, he hung his head, "I'm not _safe_ to be around you, and you're not like the others," he murmured. "I _have_ to be able to give you that chance to defend yourself."

Darcy sighed as her eyes traced the tension in his neck and shoulders, and she could hear the servos in his arm clicking as his stress levels rose, "Hey, I get it."

"What?" He finally turned to her, his eyes wide.

She held her hands out, the blade turned and lying against her wrist, and he hesitated before settling his hands on hers, "If it makes you feel better while you're here, then who am I to have an issue? I just ant you to be _aware_ when you're doing things like that."

His jaw worked as he tried to figure out what to say, and she cut him off with a gentle shake of her head.

"How about this," she held fast to his hands. "I keep this knife with me so you _know_ that I'm always armed, even though that's silly because you're not actually going to hurt me, and we'll work on breaking you out of the habit the rest of the time."

"You would do that?" He breathed, and Darcy's chest ached with the way he looked at her like no one ever offered him a concession like that.

She shrugged a shoulder, "I do kind of like you, you know."

Bucky shook his head, looking down at his feet, but she could see him looking at her through his thick, dark lashes, and she grinned and squeezed his fingers, "_But_," she drawled, waiting for him to look at her before she went on. "I'm _not_ bringing it into the bedroom."

He choked on his breath, "_What_?"

"Oh _please_, like us sleeping together isn't entirely inevitable at this point."

His ears were bright red, and she barely heard him as he muttered, "I didn't want to presume."

Darcy snorted, shivering harder as the wind picked up again, "Well I just presumed enough for the both of us. Happy?"

"Getting there," he used their joined hands to tug her against him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as he used the other to drape the large, heavy afghan over them both. "Better?"

"Much," she nodded against his neck, her free hand curling around the hem of his t-shirt.

Securing the edges of the blanket against his side, Bucky tucked his hand against the back of her head and kissed her, his tongue darting out to trace the seam of her lips before Darcy opened her mouth to him and used her grip on his shirt to tug him closer.

The knife slipped from her other hand, clattering to the ground by her feet.

Bucky didn't even notice.


End file.
